


Triptych

by debit



Category: Six Feet Under
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debit/pseuds/debit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brenda's solution for the Billy situation. Set during season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triptych

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted November 16 2001.

Brenda, over dinner, goes on and on about distant parents, emotionally crippling private school environments, an era when your stock portfolio was nurtured more than your child, how some siblings always remain close.  What it boils down to, is this; "Billy feels left out."

And what Nate thinks is; So Billy feels left out.  Well boo fucking hoo.  Billy feels left out when Brenda doesn't devote every hour of every day to whatever crisis he's currently having. Billy feels left out when Brenda wants to have the house to herself so she and her boyfriend can fuck in peace.  Billy feels left out when he isn't allowed to use the bathroom when Nate's in the shower.  Billy feels left out when Nate doesn't offer to pick up his tab when Billy invites himself along to dinner, or worse, just turns up at the restaurant.  Nate, being the good boyfriend, the dutiful boyfriend, doesn't say any of this.  Just tries for a non-committal yet sympathetic look that gets him absolutely nowhere.

Brenda stabs at her fried rice with her chopsticks and adds, "It's to be expected, Nate.  You're the first person I've been serious about for a long time.  You're going to have to be patient with us."

And the glow he gets from the word 'serious' dies when she refers to 'us'.  Brenda and Billy.  Nathaniel and Isabelle against the world.  "I think I've been patient.  In fact, I think I've been the picture of patient." Nate spreads his arms wide and says, "Look at me, for I am patient man."

That gets him a small, crooked smile.  But also, " You could try to make him feel a little less excluded. You could try to be a little nicer."

A little nicer.  Check.  Will do.   Because he is patient man, and eventually, Billy has to get bored with being the odd man out and will go away.

*

Billy showed up later with a bag of dessert.

Brenda inhales deeply, holds it, then slowly exhales.  Her eyes are slit half shut against the smoke and Nate thinks she looks mysterious, exotic. Like a stranger.  "You," Brenda says with a slow smile to Billy, "always have the best stuff."

"I know the best people," Billy replies, and this sends them into laughter.

Nate, from across the low table, pulls the joint from Brenda's lax fingers and takes a deep drag.  Holds it.  Watches them laugh.  They're sitting shoulder to shoulder, dark heads together, identical smiles stretching their mouths wide. Brenda slumps a little.  Rests her head on Billy's shoulder and closes her eyes.  Chuckles a little more, then sighs.

Billy rubs his cheek on her hair and closes his eyes.

They both look exotic, Nate thinks. Wide mouths.  High cheekbones.  Wild, dark hair. Otherworldly.

There is a long, endless moment where Nate just stares at them.  He is aware that he's profoundly stoned.  

"Breathe, Nate," Billy says, without opening his eyes.

Nate exhales, then wheezes in a shaky breath.

Brenda opens her eyes, gives Nate a curious, yet distant look.  "You okay?"

"He's fine," Billy says before Nate can even think of an answer.  His eyes slowly open and pin Nate with the same look as Brenda's.  "He's just not used to the good stuff.  Are you Nate?"

Nate wants to protest that back in Seattle he smoked plenty of pot, thankyouverymuch, but it's true.  The joints Billy rolled seemed to have an extra something that gave getting high an added dimension of weird.  Or maybe it was just them.  Maybe together they emanate weirdness.  "You're weird," he hears himself say.

They laugh.  Billy takes the joint from him, tokes, then holds it to Brenda's lips.  He leans in to whisper her in her ear and she sputters out another laugh along with the smoke.  Billy whispers again and they both look at him.  Smiling.

"Weird," Nate sullenly repeats, not caring that his tone is not precisely nice.  He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to look at them anymore, but they're still there, ghost paintings on the insides of his eyelids. Laughing at him.  Whispering to each other and suddenly Nate wonders exactly who really is the odd man out.

Something brushes against his mouth.  Nate smells the sweetly acrid smoke and parts his lips.  Feels the crinkle of the paper of the joint and the slim, warm fingers holding it.  He smiles, then opens his eyes and meets Billy's amused stare.

"You're not keeping up," Billy whispers.  The tip of one finger is still touching the curve of Nate's lower lip.

"I'm just…" Nate starts, then stops when he realizes he's speaking against Billy's finger.  He pulls back and turns his head away, sees that Brenda is now on his other side.

"Tired," she says with a slow smile.  "Time for bed."

*

They pull him stumbling into Brenda room.  

Brenda's bed is low to the ground and he falls into it with a thud.  Another thud and Brenda lands beside him.  Her hands are warm and soft as she cups his cheeks, and kisses him.  Soft, so soft, then she says, quiet and low, "Keep your eyes closed."  Brenda likes this, likes it when Nate is pliant, likes to just…play with him sometimes.  He likes it too, and it's easy, so easy to let his heavy eyelids stay down.

The bed shifts as she moves.  Then her hands are everywhere, soft, then hard, tugging on his shirt until he lifts his arms.  Nate is content to leave them over his head when his hands are firmly pressed into the pillow.  He gets another kiss as a reward. He hears the low hiss of a zipper and then there is more tugging on his waistband until he raises his hips.  Cool air, then warm fingers trace circles around his nipples, then down over his stomach.  Light, teasing caresses on his cock as it grows hard and this is so good.  Brenda knows just what he likes even before he does.

More kisses, on his mouth, his check, then down for soft, open mouth suckles on his nipples and her hands are everywhere.  On his cock, stroking, pulling.  Cupping his balls, rolling them between her strong, clever fingers.  Tracing a line down to his ass, then circling.  Pressing there, right there and his legs part, his knees bend and his hips circle because it feels so…

"Good?  Does it feel good, Nate?"  Brenda's voice, husky and he can almost feel her smile because she knows.

"Yes."  A croak, so he licks his lips, swallows and tries again.  "Yes, it feels good."

"Good."  Her voice is a purr and her laugh is pleased, low, dark and rich.  "What do you want, Nate?  What should we do, hmmm?"  

Another touch barely penetrates him and he presses into it. Nate moans a little when the touch goes away, holds his breath when it comes back.  Softer.  Wetter.  Good, so good and he can't believe he'd ever thought this would be disgusting.  Another lick, then in, in and out, and he rocks into it, whispers, "Don't stop."

Bad Nate, stupid Nate, because it stops.

"Shhh," Brenda says when he opens his mouth.  "Shhhh.  I know what you need."

Another shift and a wet lick at the head of his cock, then another.  She likes to tease, likes it when he begs, so, "Please."

"Please what, Nate?"  Her voice is right next to his ear and there's something wrong about that, but it doesn't matter, he knows what she wants to hear, knows how to play this game.  "Suck me.  Suck my cock."  He can feel her waiting, just breathing warm and moist on the head of his cock, in his ear and adds, "Please."

And that's the magic word.  A mouth slides over his cock, sucks at the head, tongues the slit, then goes down, takes him in all the way.  Pauses.  Then a slick finger enters him and yes.  Yes.  He hears himself make a sound, then thrusts into the hot, wet mouth, rocks back onto the finger, and it's good, so good.  Can't stop, can't control anything beyond the depths of his thrusts, keeping them shallow, but screwing himself back as hard and deep as he can because he needs, he needs.  And he almost cries out when the finger crooks and finds the sweet spot.  Does cry out, an open mouthed, panting cry when the throat around him swallows and Brenda whispers in his ear, "So sexy.  You're so fucking sexy like this, Nate."

His eyes snap open and he looks down.  Sees a dark head bent over him, Brenda's fingers stroking the long, dark hair, cupping the back of the skull, Billy's skull and Nate makes a helpless, horrified noise.

Nate tries to pull away, but only manages to thrust deeper into Billy's mouth.  Billy's finger crooks again and he can't help it, can't seem to stop fucking Billy's mouth, fucking himself on Billy's finger because he's going to, he has to, he needs to come now, right now but he can't because, oh god, it's Billy.  Billy and Brenda doing this to him and this is wrong, all wrong, but he has to.  Has to stop watching the wet slide of his cock in and out of Billy's mouth, has to make this-

"…stop?  Do you want him to stop?"  

Can't look away, even when Billy's eyes open and stare up at him just as he thrusts deep into his mouth, Billy's mouth, and he comes while Billy watches him, while Brenda makes a purring noise low in her throat and rubs against his hip, then shudders.

And he still can't look away when Billy lets his cock slide free, when Billy licks his lips and smiles into Nate's eyes, or even while Billy kneels over him, fists himself and comes all over Nate's spent cock.

"There," Brenda says.  "Now no one feels left out."


End file.
